


Damon and Stefan troll each other on the way to Pottery Barn!

by papyrocrat, verity



Category: Vampire Diaries (TV)
Genre: Gen, abuse of italics and assault on home furnishings, boys being trolls, general vampire stuff really
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-19
Updated: 2012-12-19
Packaged: 2017-11-21 13:15:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 811
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/598175
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/papyrocrat/pseuds/papyrocrat, https://archiveofourown.org/users/verity/pseuds/verity
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Wherein Stefan takes Damon out for retail therapy, and Damon has a thing for lamps.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Damon and Stefan troll each other on the way to Pottery Barn!

**Author's Note:**

> The first part is by moi, the second part is by the delightful Verity. Set in early S1. Written for **upupa_epops** 's [Trolling Comment!Ficathon](http://upupa-epops.livejournal.com/127143.html?thread=1481895#t1481895).

"I've just had my _heart broken._ My _soul ripped from my unbreathing chest._ The _foundation of my immortal existence_ dangled before my eyes and snatched cruelly away. You can't expect me to _live in squalor_ like this, too."  
  
"Live in squalor," Stefan repeats slowly.  
  
Damon takes an impressive swig. " _Degenerate_ squalor."  
  
"In a meticulously-maintained fifteen-room antebellum mansion full of priceless antiques?"  
  
"Eternity looms before me, a crushing black chasm of loneliness and gore and chipped coffee mugs and women who inexplicably _abandon_ me. And, you know, _you._ Which pains me _almost_ as much as the coffee mugs."  
  
"Wow, you must really hate those coffee mugs."  
  
Damon looks back at him balefully.  
  
"Fine."  
  
Damon sways dangerously on the way to the car, but at least goes agreeably enough to the passenger's seat - "but no cheating and absconding me to Target, you miser."  
  
"Target has a quality selection of affordably-priced home furnishings, I'll have you know."  
  
"So that's where you get your horrible clothes." Damon pops open the storage panel in front of his seat, where he's (of course) squirreled away three bags of blood, a flask of bourbon, a romance novel, a dime bag of vervain, and a handgun.  
  
"Have the blood so you at least sober up a little before we get there."  
  
"Well, look who's become a _pusher_." Stefan clenches his jaw and stares straight ahead. Damon squirts the bag so the car will reek for days ("oops") and spends the rest of the drive smacking his lips obscenely. "This tastes like lacrosse player. Mmmm, _mmm._ O negative."  
  
"You know, it's all the same to us. You could at least steal the more common blood types," Stefan ventures as he parks.  
  
"Well, I _could,_ but then I'd get _bored_ and have to spice up my palate.... _elsewhere_." Damon waggles his eyebrows at Stefan and lurches toward a harried-looking woman juggling two toddlers.  
  
"Coffee mugs," Stefan reminds him.  
  
"And I was thinking a new desk lamp."  
  
"What's wrong with your old desk lamp?"  
  
"It had an unfortunate run-in with the.....wall."  
  
"This is why we can't have nice things, Damon."  
  
"Ah, you see, my small-visioned brother, it's why we can have nice things. Because we have immortality! And special pupils that go _wooo_ " - Damon waves a hand in front of his face - "and shadily-procured wealth."  
  
"Where did all that come from?"  
  
"From my prudently-cultivated IRA, Stefan. Where do you _think?_ "  
  
Stefan decides he doesn't want to know. Fortunately, Damon has swung his attention to flirting outrageously with the saleslady showing them to the glassware section.  
  
As usual, he's decided to rope Stefan into his barely-coherent babble. "I just can't send my baby bro off to Georgia Tech to fend for himself! I at least want him to have the beginnings of his own kitchen. And a decent study lamp, I worry about eye strain."  
  
Stefan rolls his eyes.  
  
"I know, buddy," Damon slings an arm around him, "I'm overprotective. It's just that he's all I've got." And then for good measure, "they just grow up so _fast._ "

 

*

 

"Couldn't you have picked up one of these back in the day?" Stefan asks, having derailed Damon's progress toward fancy goblet city by gravitating toward what is admittedly a rather attractive Art Nouveau style desk lamp.  
  
Damon runs a finger over the ribbing on the fluted glass shade. "Oh, I _had_ a few," he says - and they were _lovely_ ones, Tiffany glass, "but, you know. Bad breakup."  
  
"I'm sensing a theme."  
  
"I could spend _eternity_ with this one, though," Damon says. "I can really see this _working_."  
  
  
They still haven't made it to glassware, but that's okay. Damon's stocking up. This lamp may be the love of his unlife, but those gorgeous white latte mugs are 4 for $32.00, and why not go for some espresso cups, while he's at it? Their saleslady is hovering, dollar signs in her bright eyes; she's almost attractive enough to tempt him to press pause on the looping tape of the eternal abyss of his blighted desire. Maybe he'll stop back later, if he can get Stefan to hand over the keys, if it won't - he checks his watch - spoil dinner.  
  
"Your brother drinks a lot of coffee?" she asks.  
  
"Not really." Damon smiles. "But there's still time for him to pick up my _bad habits_."  
  
The woman laughs like it's the funniest thing she's ever heard.  
  
  
"This is all for me," Damon explains, as he mulls over the stemware. "Stefan doesn't drink."  
  
"What a nice boy," says the saleslady.  
  
Stefan sighs the sigh of a martyr; it's Stefan's favorite sigh. "Are you getting the martini glasses or not?"  
  
He steps past his brother to the next display. "Oh, these ones are _recycled_ glass."  
  
"Yes," the saleslady beams at them, "We're very committed to the environment."  
  
"Me, too," Damon assures her. "It's an investment in the future."


End file.
